Slayer

In some circles, I'm known as the Dandelion Slayer.  I may be overstating things slightly.  That title may only be used in one circle, the one that exists in our household.  And the kids don't know the word "slayer, " so you can do the math.  After I publish this post, I'm hoping that word will spread quickly that I'm the go-to gal, if you're interested in some serious dandelion carnage. 

Wanna know my secret?  Feigned stupidity. 

It's very important, when looking out at your lawn, surveying the hundreds of little yellow heads staring back at you, that you forget that you are going to lose this battle.  You are seriously outnumbered.  And even if you do conquer all your foes over the course of a few hours, they'll be back.  The reinforcements will probably be back by the time you bring your kids inside, put them down for naps, and return to the scene of the battle.  This is a losing war, friend.  You're no Gideon.  God may be on your side, but these weeds are not going to turn on each other. 

Speaking of kids, this year, we tried to get the girls on the lawncare train.  We did this by overstating the excitement of the task at hand and by misrepresenting the fate intended for the dandelions.  If you are interested in involving your children in the weed-ridding process, here's roughly what our speech sounded like:

"Oh BOY!  Guess what we're going to do!  After you finish breakfast, we're going to go outside and pick dandelions!"  (Pause here for cheers.)  "Mommy is going to pick them, and you guys get to pick them up and put them in a special bag!  It's going to be so fun!  I mean, just LOOK at all the dandelions out there!  Isn't this going to be great?!" 

And it was pretty great.  I happily plucked those suckers up by the roots, and the girls grabbed them for a few minutes until the grew tired of it.  And I was able to keep my mind on the fact that my pile of fallen weeds was growing.  Now the kids are down for naps, and I'm refusing to go back outside.  At least for now.  A girl needs to be able to glory in her (fake, all-too-short, delusional) victory for at least a couple hours.